


Perception

by Tashilover



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos!Whump, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is King.</p><p> </p><p>Carlos!whump.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Carlos' grandmother used to be a very religious woman. Every time Carlos and his sister visited her in Tucson, she made them pray before and after every meal, had them read the Bible for 'fun' and wouldn't let them go to bed unless they recited all Ten Commandments in order.

Don't be fooled into thinking Carlos hated his grandmother. Oh, he loved his grandmother very much. One of his favorite memories of her was being in her kitchen, sitting on the kitchen countertop, watching her make a fresh batch of tortillas. Though Carlos didn't understand, she would speak to him in Spanish as she rolled the dough into submission, dusting flour everywhere. Carlos remember squealing in laughter as she dusted him with flour, telling him he looked like a ghost.

But it was difficult to be with her at times when they would walk down the street and grandma would loudly condemn every girl whose skirt was fluttering slightly above the knee. Carlos knew the meaning of the word  _whore_  before the age of ten.

Carlos only imagined how she would react to his relationship with Cecil.

That being said, Carlos grew up with a very much stereotypical view of angels. Tall, beautiful,  _white_  angels, with golden locks, brown pale wings, halos, and a face that made them look like twelve year old boys. When Carlos eventually met one of Old Woman Josie's angel, it looked  _nothing_  like Saint Gabriel.

He saw it while walking home one early evening. Carlos' arms were filled with groceries, ingredients to make Cecil dinner later that night. The angel was standing by the side of a road, staring intensely down at a sewage drain.

Carlos knew it was one of Old Woman Josie's angels because he's seen them with her at the store. They hung around her like they were her children, occasionally helping her place objects in her shopping cart. Sometimes they would place a packet of candy in her cart and she would scold them, telling them they need to put it back.

Like the others, this angel was a tall, faceless black blob. Littered over its body were little blinking eyes of various colors. Its wings were white, but small and bony, and a thin crown of golden thorns sat on top of its head. It was making a small mewing noise, like a hurt animal, as it kept staring down at the sewage drain.

Now and forever curious, Carlos reajusted his grip on his gorceries and trotted over to the angel. "Hey," he said gently. "What's wrong?"

The angel pointed down at the drain. Carlos looked and noticed a set of keys attached to a Ninja Turtles keychain sitting in a small puddle of rain water. The angel must have dropped them. "Oh. Do you want me to get them? I have very thin arms."

The angel nodded.

Carlos set aside his groceries and bent down to his knees. He pulled up the sleeve of his lab coat, reached down in between the metal bars and tried to pick up the keys. After a few unsuccessful grabs, he managed to curl his finger around the Ninja Turtles chain and pulled them up out of the drain. "Here you go," said Carlos, shaking out the keys to dispel them of water.

The angel made a trilling noise, and reached out to take the keys. One of its fingers brushed against the inside of Carlos' palm and it was like a hot, thin needle pierced his skin. Carlos jerked his hand away and looked at his palm. A tiny droplet of blood sat right in the middle. He shivered.

The angel trilled again, clutching the keys to its chest. With a small flutter of its bony, featherless wings, it turned and shuffled away towards the direction of its home.

Carlos brushed away the blood. No more welled up. A year ago Carlos would have freaked out over this experience, cataloging every moment and writing everything down in the little notebook he carried on him. Today, he chalked it up as a 'Night Vale moment' and gave it no more thought.

Carlos bent down to retrieve his groceries. A couple of tomatoes had rolled out of the plastic bag. The moment he reached out to grab one, he heard hurried footsteps against the asphalt behind him.

He turned around just in time to see a metal pipe swing down towards his head.


	2. Chapter 2

When Carlos woke, he wished he was dead. The fierce painful pounding of his head thrummed constantly, and he had to breath evenly through his nose to keep himself from vomiting.

He was in a basement. Carlos knew it was a basement because he studied so many basements here in Night Vale. Nobody in town used their basement for an extra room or bar or storage space. They were all too afraid to use it. After extensive studies of several basements, Carlos concluded that Night Vale citizens were a bunch of wussies because none of the basements were haunted or scary in any way.

Carlos took that back immediately. Basements were fucking scary.

There was only one light source and it came from a lamp sitting on top of a woodwork station. There were three support beams and Carlos was tied to one of them. His back leaned against it, with his arms behind him, his elbows digging uncomfortably into the block of wood.

He was tied with... it felt like duct tape. He could feel it pulling and sticking with every movement.

The basement itself was pretty sparse. Besides the work station, there was a punching bag hanging low from the ceiling, a couple of boxes shoved to the side and-

Carlos' fear bumped up a notch. From where he sat, he saw a pair of legs sticking out from behind the boxes. He could make out the jeans and the black boots. Judging from the size of the boots, it was a man.

"Hello?" Carlos croaked out. His throat was so dry. "Sir? Sir, are you okay?"

No answer, no movement.

"Sir-"

The door from the top of the stairs suddenly opened, bathing the basement with extra light. Carlos silenced himself immediately as heavy footsteps stomped down. A man carrying a tray came into view. He was an Asian man, slightly older than Carlos, with short cropped black peppered hair, and stubble on his square jaw. The man was tall, at least 6'2, and built like a fucking tank. The muscles he had on him could make Chuck Norris cry hot tears.

The man set down the tray in front of Carlos. It had a bowl of soup and bottle water.

The man stepped back and pulled a switchblade out from his pocket. He released the knife and Carlos stiffened. "I'm going to cut the tape," said the man in perfect, unaccented english. "Are you going to behave?"

Carlos nodded.

The man stepped behind Carlos, out of view. Carlos could only see from the corner of his eye as the man kneeled down, then started hacking at the tape.

The moment Carlos' felt his hands were free, he shoved off the ground, running straight for the stairs.

The back of his knee suddenly exploded in white hot pain, collapsing his leg. Carlos fell, his arms stretched out, barely an inch away from the foot of the stairs. He tried to move again but the man grabbed him by the back of his coat, dragged him back and threw him against the support beam, cracking his head against it. Carlos' vision swam and for ten seconds, he lost conscious again.

When he came to, the man was reapplying the tape. " _Stupid, goddamn idiot_ ," he was hissing under his breath. He finished with the tape, aggressively picked up the tray with the food and stomped his way back up the stairs. He slammed the door shut, leaving Carlos alone once again.

The body of the other man never stirred once.

 

 

 

 

The man came back down the stairs two hours later, tray in hand again. He only came halfway down the stairs before asking, "Are we going to have a repeat performance of last time?"

As much as Carlos was tempted to try again, he knew he couldn't. He concluded that the man didn't stab him in the back of the knee, merely kicked him, but the blow was strong enough that his leg was still tingling painfully two hours later. Carlos was also immensely thirsty now and he was hungry. He shook his head.

"Are you going to behave?"

Carlos nodded.

Satisfied, the man walked the rest of the way down, resting the tray back in front of Carlos. He took out his knife, made a show of showing the blade to Carlos, before going over to cut the tape.

This time, Carlos waited till the man was back in front of him before pulling out his arms. His shoulders gave protest and he winced. He bit back a hiss of pain and leaned forward, dragging the tray towards him. His knee throbbed hotly.

Carlos drank the water first, forcing himself to take tiny sips. All he wanted to do was chug the entire bottle but he was still afraid of vomiting. Once the bottle was a third empty, he tried the soup.

Chicken and rice. Campbell. It was cold and Carlos theorized his kidnapper didn't bother putting it back in the microwave.

The man settled down at the foot of the stairs, watching Carlos eat. "You're Carlos, aren't you?"

Carlos continued to eat in silence. He wasn't going to confirm or deny that.

"You're him," said the man, nodding as he spoke. "Of course you're him. The whole fucking town knows who you are. Cecil Baldwin's little boy toy."

Carlos had specifically asked Cecil to not talk so much about him and their relationship on air. It was annoying to have complete strangers come up to him and say things like, "Yeah, you go tap that!"

"I'm Bill," said the man. Now that Carlos listened more closely, he had a hint of a Southern drawl. "Not that you care, nobody here really does."

The soup wasn't near done but it seemed Bill was insistent on having a conversation. Carlos pushed the tray away and said, "If you know who I am, then you should know Cecil is expecting me. I will be missed."

Bill smiled bitterly. "I'm sure you will be."

"I... I don't have money-"

"Money? You live above a pizza restaurant and you're on a fellowship, of course you don't have any fucking money."

This was a bad sign. If Bill didn't want money, then what else would he want?

"Tell me something, Carlos," Bill said, leaning back, stretching out his legs and cupping his hands over his belly. "You've been living here in Night Vale for over a year, yeah? During this whole time, have you ever tried to leave?"

Carlos didn't understand. "Leave?"

"Yeah.  _Leave_. Go visit relatives, celebrate Christmas in Hawaii, have Thanksgiving on the East Coast..."

"Like you said, I'm on a fellowship, I don't have money for travel."

Bill angrily kicked out, his foot colliding with the tray, overturning the plastic bowl with a harsh echoing clatter. Bits of rice smeared over the dark floor. "Fuck traveling then. How 'bout just leaving Night Vale? Hmm? Have you ever tried that?"

"No."

"Do you know how long I've been here?" Bill said. "Nearly fifteen years."

There was a pause and Carlos realized Bill was waiting for Carlos to answer. "That's a long time."

"Yes it is, that's a very long time. And do you know what's the worst part? I think it's actually been longer."

Carlos thought back to the clocks in Night Vale, how none of them had gears or batteries or even numbers. He thought back to when he tried taking apart his own watch, the expensive watch he got as a Christmas gift from his sister, and found the gears slowly melting into a solid gel. Time moved so oddly here in Night Vale, it was like it didn't exist. Carlos had long given up on trying to understand it.

"I came here by accident," Bill said. "I was trying to get to Las Vegas and I got lost. I still don't know how that happened, I didn't take any short cuts or backroads. I got lost on my way to one of the most famous cities in the world. Lucky me, eh? So while driving I noticed a road sign to good old Night Vale. And I thought to myself, Hey! Maybe I should pull over here and get a map, some gas and ask for directions. They have a McDonalds, perfect!"

Bill's face darkened. Carlos knew this was where the tale was going to take a sinister turn.

"So I got my map," Bill continued. "And my gas and I happily ate some chicken strips. Then I tried to leave."

He made a motion with his hand, mouthing a car engine as he mimicked driving away.

"At first, I thought I made a wrong turn, because I ended up right back inside city limits," he said, cocking his head. "So I tried again."

He repeated the hand motion and noise.

"And guess what? I was back inside city limits. AGAIN. So I tried to leave. AGAIN."

He was nearly yelling now, repeating the motion over and over, baring his teeth as the noise got louder. "AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN. I've been trying to leave this goddamn town for  _fifteen fucking years_. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?"

Carlos chose not to answer, unsure if a yes or no would set Bill off. On the inside, Carlos was shaking. Unable to leave? He had never thought of the possibility. He had considered going away a few weeks ago to visit his sister out in New York, but each time he thought about it, something new and foreign happened in Night Vale, making him change his mind.

Carlos had no intention living here for the rest of his life. There was so much he wanted to do, to see, and while Cecil was making things quite enjoyable, Carlos was not at point in their relationship to wonder if they should be making certain decisions in their lives.

"Answer me, scientist," Bill snapped, kicking against Carlos' shoe. "Explain how this is possible."

"I don't know," Carlos said carefully. "I don't have all the factors."

Surprisingly, Bill grinned. "You see? I like that answer. You know why? Because it's rational. Logical. You ask a Night Vale citizen a question like that, do you know what they'd say?  _Leave Night Vale? Now why would do you a crazy thing like that?"_

He giggled, the sound too close to a sob. "You and I?" Bill said, indicating himself and Carlos with a finger. "We're normal, doc. We're outsiders of Night Vale. We don't accept things as is. We question, we wonder, we know what's real and what isn't."

"Why am I here?" Carlos finally asked. Bill was acting almost friendly, his voice taking on an admiration tone. This didn't seem like your common kidnapping. As if Carlos knew what normal kidnappings consisted of.

"We're the same," Bill repeated. "But you're different. You see, Carlos, what I've concluded is this: Night Vale  _likes_  you."

"What?"

Carlos was dimly aware he could try running again. His belly was full, his head didn't hurt as much, and the pain in his leg dulled to a light ache. He could try taking Bill on, now that he was distracting himself with this revelation.

But like any good scientist, Carlos himself wanted to know the truth.

"Night Vale likes you," Bill said again. "Do you know you're the only one here who has ever interacted with the angels? Everyone else here pretends they don't exist. It doesn't matter if they see them at the grocery store or at the mall, they all turn their heads away."

"Old Woman Josie talks to them."

"Old Woman Josie is part of Night Vale. She doesn't count. You count."

A headache was forming and this time it was not from the blunt force trauma. This conversation was going nowhere and all he wanted to do was scream, 'Why? Why are you doing this? What the hell do you want?' Not even Cecil gave him so much bullshit. "Then why don't you talk to them?" Carlos asked.

"Don't you think I haven't tried? The fucking things don't acknowledge me. Only you."

"And you bashed me over the head for it."

Bill nodded, not at least bit sorry. "That I did."

"I still don't understand your motive.  _Why am I here_?"

"Because," Bill said simply. "You're my ticket out of here."

 

 

 

After a quick bathroom break, Bill tied Carlos back to the beam.

Carlos again noticed the legs of the poor man in the corner. He felt guilty for forgetting about him. "Who's he?" Carlos asked. "If it's me you want, why him?"

Bill jerked his head toward the body's direction. "You want to see?"

No, no, Carlos most definitely did not want to see.

Bill walked over to the body. He examined it for a moment, then kneeled down and grabbed hold of a leg. With a grunt, he dragged the body out into the light for Carlos to see.

Carlos nearly screamed.

Bill must have killed his twin brother because that was  _him_  on the ground dead. The side of his face was bloody, the head clearly been beaten. "He's not my brother," Bill huffed. "I don't have siblings. This here is my doppelgänger. My double. Damn fool came straight to the front door, wanting to meet me. Idiot. So I smashed his skull in."

Carlos turned his head away. Bile was moving up his throat and he didn't want to lose his lunch. Not here. Not now.

"Isn't this what your precious Cecil said on the radio?" Bill sneered, grabbing a chunk of the dead man's hair, hauling the head up and giving it a good shake. " _Kill your double_? Well, that is exactly what I did."

He dropped the head and stepped back. "Rest well tonight, sweet Carlos. Tomorrow, you and I are leaving Night Vale forever."


	3. Chapter 3

Despite Carlos' grandmother practically nailed in religious texts into Carlos' mind for years and years, he was an atheist.

His disbelief didn't come in the form of trauma or in a moment of revelation. It just  _happened_. Looking back, Carlos knew he only went to church because his parents demanded it of him. He only read the Bible because his grandmother demanded it of him. He still celebrated Christmas, he kept his mother's heirloom of the crucifixion, but he didn't believe in any of it.

And though now he lived in Night Vale and has literally seen angels, ghost ships, and disappearing airplanes, he did not believe.

 

 

 

 

Bill left the corpse of his double laying right across Carlos. The head was turned towards him, the mouth slightly agape, eyes wide and dead. The small thin lines of dried blood running down the forehead was sickening to look at. Carlos forced himself to look away.

A part of him wondered what he would have done if Bill had just  _come to him_. It was not as if Carlos had a giant Stay Away sign posted at his door. He was more than willing to answer questions. Maybe if Bill had come straight to Carlos with this inquiry instead of, y'know,  _bashing him over the head_ , then maybe Carlos could have done a couple of experimentations. Maybe he could have found a way to help Bill.

In the end, Carlos knew it wouldn't have mattered. It was obvious the fifteen years here has taken its toll on Bill's mind. Carlos was fifteen years too late to hlep.

Carlos slept. He thought he slept. Maybe he was just slipping in and out of consciousness from the head trauma. Sometimes he forgot where he was, and would kick out in alarm when he saw the corpse again.

He wondered how Cecil was faring. Did he suspect? Was he scared? Technically, Carlos was only missing for a few hours, that was not enough time to declare him as a missing person. Didn't that need like, twenty-four hours or something? Carlos didn't know. Maybe Cecil thought Carlos stood him up. That was a possibility.

Carlos bowed his head. He hoped Cecil didn't think that was a possibility.

 

 

 

 

The sudden opening of the basement door jerked Carlos out of his half-doze. He could barely register Bill stomping down the stairs. He was too tired, his head too heavy. His back hurt, his elbows felt like they fell off, and through the thin fabric of his trousers, Carlos could see his knee had swelled twice the size.

Bill kneeled down in front of him and whistled. "Gosh, look at you. You look like crap."

Carlos scowled at him.

"I would offer some water and maybe breakfast, but I am too eager to leave. Come on then. If you promise to be good, I'll buy you Burger King once we get out of here."

Carlos didn't even try to resist as Bill cut the tape. He didn't have the energy to fight back. Bill hauled him to his feet. Carlos groaned painfully, realizing his knee was not going to support his weight.

Bill, the muscled-man idiot, didn't notice and practically carried Carlos up the stairs.

He dragged Carlos out to the garage where the truck was waiting for them. The back was filled with furniture and little nicknacks. Despite his hatred for Night Vale, it was obvious Bill had built a life here.

Carlos was shoved into the passenger side of the truck. The pain in his knee was making his head dizzy and his bit down on his wrist to keep himself from being sick. All he wanted to do was go home.

Bill slipped into the driver's side. "Goodbye, ya stupid old house," he said as he pulled out of the garage and into the street. "I won't miss your stupid random holes, your bleeding mirrors, and the singing doorknobs."

Singing doorknobs was a new one. If Carlos wasn't half-scared out of his mind, he would have asked for more details.

They drove out of the neighborhood, onto the main road. Bill didn't bother asking Carlos to duck his head. Did he not care that people might be looking for Carlos? And as if Night Vale itself was answering his question, they passed a billboard that said in bold letters, " _If you see something, say nothing."_

Carlos groaned in his seat.

"Not enjoying the ride?" Bill said merrily. He reached for the radio. "How 'bout some music?"

_"...and if anyone has any information, please call the radio station! Carlos, my precious Carlos, is out there somewhere and-"_

Bill turned off the radio. "Nah, the silence is really good right now."

Carlos turned his head away to look out the window. Despite the circumstances, it was a beautiful day.

 

 

 

 

Twenty minutes later, they got to the edge of Night Vale. Bill stopped the truck right next to the Night Vale farewell sign ( _Why are you leaving? Please don't_ ) and just stared at the single road leading out.

"There it is," he said. "After fifteen years, I am finally going to leave."

The road was empty of other cars. None were going, none were coming in. As far as Carlos could see, there was no barrier to stop them. No road spikes, no bumps, no blocks of any kind. The road carried on, disappearing into the distance.

With an insane giggle, Bill slammed down on the gas.

The truck surged forward and Carlos gripped the side panel to keep himself from crashing back into his seat. With a roar, the truck passed Night Vale's border and-

Carlos blinked. He didn't mean to, reflex and all that, but he must have missed something because they were right back in Night Vale. The truck was even facing in.

"No..." said Bill. He put the truck in reverse, stuck his head out the window as he slammed on the gas again.

This time, Carlos made a conscious effort to not blink. The wind from the opened window forced them shut. When he opened them, they were still inside Night Vale.

"NO!" cried Bill. "NO! This isn't how...!"

He tried again and again, putting the truck in reverse and in drive over and over. Nothing he did helped.

Eventually he stopped, put the truck in park and got out. He began screaming to the high heavens, "WHY? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? I JUST WANT TO GO HOME! LET ME GO HOME!"

He received no answer.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking wild and almost on the verge of crying when he suddenly looked back at the truck and saw Carlos.

Shit. Fuck. FUCK.

Carlos shoved the passenger door opened and tried to climb out. His knee wasn't having it and even with the adrenaline pumping through him, he collapsed. He forced himself to his feet, tried to limp away but Bill was already on him, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, and putting him into a choke hold.

"C'mon," Bill hissed, dragging Carlos towards the border.

"NIGHT VALE," he screamed. "I GOT YOUR PRECIOUS CARLOS HERE. IF YOU LET ME LEAVE, I'LL LET HIM GO!"

Bill's large beefy arm was cutting off Carlos' air. He couldn't coordinate, couldn't think between the lack of air and his legs losing their footing every time Bill took a step. He had no idea when Bill finally stepped over the border. If Bill's cry of anguish was anything to go by, it was all in vain.

Bill threw Carlos aside, his screams echoing loudly in the empty space. On the ground, Carlos coughed harshly as he gasped for air. He tried to focus on getting his lungs full of air but a sharp kick to his ribs ruined that.

There were no words this time, no threats. Bill pummeled Carlos with kicks and punches, hitting him in the back, the stomach, the legs, the arms, the head and neck. He grabbed Carlos, hauled him to his feet, only to throw him down again. He did this two more times and on the third throw, a magnificent  _crack_  echoed loudly in Carlos' arm. He tried to scream but he had no air to do so.

Finally, Bill pulled out his knife. "Night Vale," he hissed. "I will kill him. Let me go and I'll leave him be. Can you hear me, you stupid fucking town?"

There was only wind.

Carlos couldn't get up. He couldn't drag himself away. He could do nothing except watch Bill come to finalization that he was going have to commit murder to make a point. Bill repositioned the hunting knife in his hand to a stabbing motion, and began walking towards Carlos.

Carlos didn't believe in angels. He didn't believe in God or heaven or hell. In some ways it was comforting to never question his existence, in other ways it was devastating. He preferred to have something he could prove, something he could touch and explain. For him, seeing was believing.

Carlos has seen angels. He believed in  _Night Vale._

With an agonizing sob, Carlos moved his broken arm over, to touch his other hand. He pressed down on his palm, right over where Old Woman Josie's angel had touched him and he prayed quietly,

" _Please_."

There was a strange noise, unlike the constant ambiance vibrations thrumming through Night Vale. It was almost harmonic, like a million little voices singing all at once.

And standing right there, putting himself between Carlos and Bill, was none other than Saint Gabriel himself.

He looked  _exactly_  like the depictions Carlos saw in paintings and books. Tall, blond hair, blue-eyed man with a baby face. He wore a blue chest plate, gladiator-like sandals, and hovering just above his head was a shimmering, golden halo. His wings were spread out, so perfectly white and beautiful, Carlos nearly cried at the sight.

In Gabriel's right hand, he held a long dark spear. At the end of the spear, hanging among other trinkets like flakes of gold and bits of bone, was a Ninja Turtles keychain.

Bill stopped in his tracks, unsure if to drop the knife and fall to his knees. He looked to the knife, to Carlos, and then to the road leading out of Night Vale. His lips thinned as he came to a conclusion, and with the knife raised, he charged the angel.

The angel raised its hand, there was a flash of light, and Bill evaporated.

The knife dropped. His clothes fluttered quietly to the ground. He was gone forever.

Carlos didn't know if he should thank the angel or tremble in fear of its awesome powers. He was in too much pain to think rationally. "I-"

The angel held up a finger to indicate silence. Carlos shut his mouth, gulped, and watched in fascination as the angel kneeled down in front of him. The angel gently tapped Carlos on the forehead.

Heavy blackness filtered over his eyes. He felt himself falling, drifting away into a deep, warm void.

 

 

 

 

Cecil didn't want to let him go.

It was understandable. After everything that happened, Carlos didn't want to  _be_  let go. A great deal part of him simply wanted to turn around and walk away and never look back again.

But he needed to do this.

Slowly, Carlos detached himself from Cecil's warm embrace. Cecil reached out to him, wanting to draw him back in. He resisted, keeping his hands to himself.

Though the angel had healed Carlos of his injuries, there was a phantom pain echoing deep inside his bones. His skin felt too tight, his joints felt stiff and old. As he walked forward, he limped.

He was only a few feet away from the border from Night Vale.

Because there was no body to claim, Night Vale's Secret Police said Bill 'didn't exist' and they closed the case. Carlos supposed he could break into Bill's former house and try to find a piece of mail with Bill's full name on it and look him up on the internet.

For obvious reasons, Carlos threw that idea away.

Maybe Night Vale had a good reason in keeping Bill here. Maybe it didn't. Maybe there was something the both of them missed, and if they only taken the time to look for it, they could have come up with a solution. Maybe.

Carlos stopped a mere step away from the border. He looked back to Cecil, who was fiddling with his tie anxiously. Carlos turned back, held his breath, and stepped over the border.

This time he didn't blink.

Nothing happened. He was only a few inches away from the border, sure, but he wasn't transported back inside. So he took another step. And another step.

He kept walking till he was a good hundred feet away. Up ahead, he could see the road signs leading to the main highway.

It struck Carlos he could just leave right now. Keep walking and never return. This could be his only chance.

He glanced over and his shoulder and saw Cecil was standing right at the edge. He would only need to shuffle forward an inch to be officially outside of Night Vale. But he didn't do so much as that. He stayed dutifully inside the invisible line, still fiddling with this tie.

Cecil held out a hand. A silent invitation to come back. To him.

Carlos didn't even think twice about it. Maybe this was his only chance. Maybe Night Vale did like him, as Bill said. Maybe there was a bigger clue involved and Carlos could not see it. He didn't care. Grinning, he walked back to Cecil.

He never looked back once.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write Carlos!whump.


End file.
